


Our Hallelujahs

by sadiembm



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Hallelujahs, Kidnapping, M/M, Original Character(s), Tattoos, inspired by a song
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadiembm/pseuds/sadiembm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-inspired by the parody Hallelujah (Plead The Fifth)- Castiel has been missing for weeks now, and Dean is getting distracted. What will unfold when he and his brother are told by an old thought to be dead ally that their friend has been kidnapped? What do all of these angels mean by Hallelujahs? are these the strange symbols that have appeared on his skin? How will these events play out, and tensions and lessons rise in the angels that accompany them. What does it mean to be an angels bonded? so many questions and not a lot of time.(slow build Destiel, Sabriel, Charlie/OC, OCs)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Screams echoed through the too hot room. Everything is dark and even the air circulating seemed to be tinged with the color red. A single chair is in this room. Upon this chair is someone with matted, nearly black hair that is shiny with blood. Pieces of skin have been flayed off of a toned body. The tattered remains of a khaki trench coat lay draped around the broken angel. The image is pathetic, the soldier of God lay tortured and his mind blurred. He never cried. There is no cliched laughter bubbling up from the shadowed corner of the room. Or a silent and strong figure walking wordlessly into the room through a steel door, nor is there a figure screaming at him for information whipping his back until he caved. There is none of this. There are, however, a pair of steel gray, almost stormy, colored eyes boring into his own blue ones. It hurts to keep his eyes open, and he has to blink often to avoid getting the blood flowing from the wound on his forehead from getting into them. He isn't successful. Words are flowing from wet lips in front of him, but he can't understand what they were saying. It is hard to focus on the words being spoken to him, there is so much pain. A swift hand, cold against the violent heat, strikes him hard across his right cheek. The whole experience feels so drastically different now. As if the sting on his cheek resurrected ever fiber, every nerve within the soldier. Expanding over his whole body, every inch of his skin feels sharp and hot, as if set on fire and then encased in a cast of broken glass. The cuts felt especially disgusting, they were grotesquely wet in the humid, heated atmosphere. The feeling of exactly which wounds were still bleeding their pigmented waterfalls disgusts him. The blue eyes man could feel every drop of blood and sweat on his skin like rushing rivers. Though it was the difference in viscosity that truly made his stomach churn. Blood flows like tar, its wet, and heavy, and slow, it moves so very lazily across his flesh- or at least whats left of it. Another slap claps across his cheek- the left one this time- and there isn't really pain. The sound reverberates through the endless room. It isn't the only sound though.

"Hello?" The man in front of him says in a hair-raising cheery voice,"earth to Cassy!?" He laughs out, and the sound is booming, and awful. The sound alone sends an ache through the teeth still left in Castiel's mouth, as if chewing on tinfoil. A large hand with heavily calloused fingers and long unshaped fingernails gripped around his sore jaw. A groan of pain escaped Castiel's blood soaked lips.

"There he is!" The man says excitedly, "my little angelic soldier!" he released Cas's jaw and parades in a large circle with his arms outstretched as if hosting a crowd. Castiel cocked his head if he were able to move it. This man confused him. No one else was in the room. Rippling pain -agony- tears itself out of the blue eyes mans throat, words drag their way up his vocal chords and crawl from his mouth. "who are you?" A choked and gravely question. Castiel spits blood onto himself when speaking. He watches with difficulty as the wild gray eyed mans posture changes from charismatic, relaxed, casual host, to hostile predator. The man spun on his heels, Cas would note that the man wasn't wearing any shoes.

"you don't recognize me Castiel?"he faced the injured angel, who was consumed by confusion and frustration. Castiel could swear on his father that he had never seen this man with dark hair and steely gray eyes before. The most Cas could manage was an eyebrow reaching for his hairline. The man's shoulders slumped in obvious disappointment before he locked eyes with Castiel and spoke in a sobering voice, almost regretful, and remorseful.

"Castiel, I am your brother."


	2. Dean Winchester, and the no good, terrible, very fucked up day

Dean Winchester can make such unholy, and perverted noises when he eats. This is exactly what he is doing while he stuffs his face with a meat and cheese heavy burger, frankly the sights and sounds were starting to freak Sam out.  
“You wanna lay of the mouth sex there Dean? We do have case y'know.”The younger brother laughs out, clearing his throat. Deans Green eyes snap open an, he then rolls those candy apple eyes at the longer haired Winchester. Swallowing the burger bits and melty cheese in his mouth.  
“You've gotta learn to love the little things Sammy.” The older says nonchalantly. Sam scoffs and makes some comment about public indecency and unhealthy food choices. Dean zones out while Sammy sifts through the pile of nothing they have on the case. Tons of mismatched omens and two deaths, yet they still have no idea what is causing this.   
As Dean downed his beer, and Sam finishes his garden, the older of the two lets his mind wander. Cas hasn't popped in on them for a few weeks, almost three to be exact. Dean wouldn't admit it out loud but he was worried, he had been worried after 3 days went by. But now Dean is beginning to let the worry effect his work. Last weekend they were on a normal case, taking down a rogue vampire in Idaho, and he nearly has his jugular ripped out because he walked into a room without checking corners. He can't stop thinking of all of the worst possible scenarios that could have befallen the angel -his friend- since his last visit.  
What if he was in trouble? Or injured? The small dark voice in his head whispers:  
'perhaps he just left. Why would he WANT to stay with You of all people anyway?'   
“Whelp” Sam's voice ripped him so hard out of his thoughts he thought he might have whiplash. His pessimistic thought train drove off a cliff when Sam stood up to leave the diner. Trudging out of the dive after accidentally pulling the push door to leave. Dean figured today was going to suck, he didn't realize how right he was.  
Pulling Baby into the nearest parking spot as carefully as he could. About halfway through the drive to their dingy motel in Portland, Oregon Baby's dash lit up like a Christmas Tree on steroids. Check engine, low gas, gate ajar, the whole nine yard with a few extra on the side. Dean slammed on the brakes at a light and almost screamed when the lights came on.   
“What the?! Jesus Baby what the fuck is going on?! Sam is there anything in here?”  
“what? No, we checked for hexbags, even cursed coins when we got in here Dea-”  
“Well then how do you explain what's going on!?” Dean was frantic and irritated. Somehow he manages to speak to his car as if it were his child and still snap at Sam in the process, something seemingly only boys named after their grandmothers were capable of.  
“Come on Baby, don't be like this,” he practically sobs into the '67 Chevy's steering column, forehead on the wheel, as the black beauty sputters to a halt in the faded yellow lines parking place. Neither of the two boys reach to open their door. All is silent for a moment before Baby suddenly 'pops'. All is silent for a moment until:  
“SON OF A BITCH!” All four of the tires were flat, completely and utterly flat. Sam wears a shocked and suspicious expression before softening at his brothers muttering tantrum. Deans frustrations gripping him nearly as hard as the angel that pulled him from hell. Finally Sam reached for the handle to open the door to the devastated vehicle.  
“Dean,” Sam begins, “come on man, a tire blew out, so what? We can get spares. Besides,” Sam opens his door after needing momentum to actually do it, “I think 'Baby', here is a bit overdue for an oil change and a tune-up.” he laughs out and claps a large hand onto the roof of the car, Dean visibly stiffens.   
“Get your hands off of my Baby bitch.” at first Sam looks shocked and almost hurt even until he slams his door and mutters with a smile on his face:   
“Jerk.”  
Dean sighs and lets another choked off sob escape his lips as the classics radio, softly playing Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses cuts out as well.  
“why? Why is this happening?” Dean says into the wheel.  
“Dean,” the voice is cautious, and tentative –he knows it is his brother- but still sharp. Dean doesn't do anything, just sits there.  
“Dean!” Sams voice is edged this time and the younger brother has pulled out his knife.  
“...Sam,” Dean says as he gets out of the car, slow and cautiously, “What is it?”  
“Our door is open, look.” the taller pointed and then with a sharp nod started to advance to the door with near soundless footsteps, and over so bent knees. Dean followed gun readied in his steady hands. As the reached the door, a silent conversation took place. A sharp nod to inside. Voices, whoever was here is still here. Sam holding up three fingers and raising his eyebrows, on three they enter, got it. A sharp nod from each and Dean cracking his neck, flanking the chipped Christmas pine colored door their plan took action. They barge into their room, gun pointed and knife in position, but they falter.  
“what the fuck?!” Dean threw the words to the wind at the sight that greeted him when they entered.  
Their shitty motel room in Portland was Filled with Angels. Nine angels were scattered throughout the room, some previously leaning on door frames, others once sitting in chairs, one had been watching what looked like Casa Erotica on Pay Per View and one was still sprawled out on Sams bed. Eight of the nine were all brandishing their angel blades while one sucked a lollipop.   
Dean was going to wipe that shit eating grin right off of Gabriel's Face.


	3. Your Who Now?

Sam dropped his knife to his side when he faltered upon entering the motel room.  
“G-Gabriel?!” Sam Winchester nearly whispered once the sight of the angel lounging on his bed sunk in.  
“Hey Sam, everyone calm down! Jeez! Everyone is just so tense! It's them, it's the Winchesters” Gabriel spoke throwing his legs off of the bed and examining the lollipop in his fingers. One two of the angels lowered their weapons.  
“what is the point of this Gabriel? Why do we need these humans assistance, let alone the fact that they are the Winchesters as you say- they will kill us.” An angel standing towards the back of the room, his blade still raised, asked harshly. His aura was one that made the hairs on Deans neck and arms stand up. Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam beats him to it:  
“Gabe, What's going on here? How are you- you're not really- I mean.” Quickly Sam stumbles over his questions, gesturing with his hands and looking at a lose. Dean dryly provides:  
“you're dead.” The rougher male sates , he hold his gun in a strong, practiced grip, his finger itching at the trigger. It is aimed at Gabriel's face.  
“Dean!” Sam is shocked, his face painted with a protectiveness Dean himself hadn't seen in years. The bulky moose-like Winchester is already stepping in front of his trigger happy brother when everything stops. As if a pause button had been pushed, effecting ever mortal in the room. Gabriel and a young looking, short haired beauty of a girl looked stunned and turn towards a sharp dressed man, with soft features and a very charming smile.  
“Ezekiel, why was this necessary? Their bullets may hurt, but they don't cause any actual damage. It would've proved to the shorter one that Gabriel is in fact real, and Alive.” a woman in the back of the room said, Ametiel was examining her gel coated red nails. Ashe would've been beautiful to any mortal, but not in the way Balthiel- the one who had turned with Gabriel- was. Ametiel wore a pencil skirt, dark tights and red heels that matched her low-cut red shirt. Her hair was blonde and curly, her eyes a soft, sky blue. She was hot. Whereas Balthiel was modest in her beauty but it only made it more noticeable, wearing a large woven sweater the color of creamer, and simple black tight pants. Her skin was devoid of make-up, and her caramel colored hair was pulled up into a messy bun, her eyes were dark reddened brown. She was quiet as an argument broke out between 5 of the angels and Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. He heard shouts of 'Fine!' and a question about why they needed these humans to help.  
He snapped.  
“We Need these two because Dean is our only hope of locating Castiel!” he shouted over the mass, unknowing to the currently unfrozen males still holding their weapons.  
“okay, but why do we need the tall one then? Can't we use him as a bargaining chip or something, force Dean to help us by hurting Sam?” Nathaniel asked. Balthiel took a sharp intake of breath. She murmured something to herself. The room remained quiet, the Winchesters didn't move as Gabriel advanced, large steps to where Nathaniel was, who unconsciously took a step back out of fear. When Gabriel was intensely close to the large angel. He pointed his finger up at him.  
“You do NOT touch Sam Winchester,” he said darkly, lowly- all whimsy sucked out of his voice, his eyes murderous, “If you even so much as suggest anything against Sam and his well being in my presence I will cut your wings off in sections, set them on fire, cut your grace out of you and then torture you until you regret ever being created.” he jabbed his finger into the others chest, “got it?” Nathaniel nodded sharply and gulped. Gabriel took a step away from the larger male when someone else spoke up.   
“Why The Favoritism 'Gabe', what cause do you have when we can kill him right now, right here?” A man from the back said with a half-laugh. Balthiel gasped, before she shot up from her seat and spoke loudly- earning startled looks from most of the angels.  
“Don't you know?!” she asked in an incredulous tone, her voice cracking in what sounded like fanatical hysteria. When no one answered she spoke louder.  
“Sam Winchester Is Gabriel's bound, his bonded. Just as Dean is Castiel's. You cannot harm them once you know! Otherwise you could be cast into the pit for breaking one our most sacred laws.”  
“I'm Gabe's what now?” Sam finally spoke up, shock choking his voice. The whole room turned to him. His brother uncomfortable under their gaze, they all were looking at dean and his brother as if they had sprouted another head- which Dean thought would've been a bit of an improvement at the moment. However Gabriel was sending Sam some ashamed, and guilty expressions and looking just as uncomfortable- to that was a bonus in Dean's book!


	4. Lost angel

“Sam! I'm what- it's hard to explain, okay.” Gabriel spoke in a cautious and almost tentative tone. Quiet, and warning.  
“Well give it a try! I have the right to know!” Sam shot back.  
The angel opened his mouth but Deans Voice came out. He blinked Looking to the other Winchester. Who cleared his throat, straightened rather awkwardly and then spoke:  
“Where is Cas...?” He trailed off. Silence filled the room, Sam still was staring at Gabriel- who was not so casually avoiding his gaze. Dean's eyebrows drew together.  
“What. C'mon you assholes, where's Cas! I haven't seen him in almost three weeks and You mentioned him,” he motioned his gun in Balthiel's direction who shied away in both gaze and body. “so where is he?!”  
“Dean,” Gabriel stepped forward. His gaze worried for a flash of a second, before becoming hard.  
“What? spit it out man.”  
“We don't know. That's why we're here. Dean, we think YOU can help us find him.”  
“You don't – what do you mean YOU DON'T KNOW! HE IS ONE ANGEL! Why in hells fucking name can't you find him. What are you all doing lazing here! FIND HIM!” Dean Roared.  
“DEAN!” A hulking blonde Male in a tight red shirt, and dark wash jeans stepped forward. His hands outstretched, his weapon gone. Dean whipped in his direction and pointed his gun at the muscled Vessel. The man put his hands in the air. He began to speak:  
“Dean Winchester,” his voice was gravelly and strong. “we are here for your help. Castiel is close to all of us, and he has been out of contact for nearly 15 days today. we believe you can find him.” Dean lowered his weapon, and holstered it. Sam’s gaze was now irritated and looking anywhere but Gabriel. Whose own eyes were trained on the floor. It was odd seeing the snarky bastard look down in shame. Dean spoke:  
“How could I help you? can’t you just perform a locator spell or something? message him over angel radio?” he supplied frantically, motioning Antennae off of his temples. He spoke again softly, more to himself than the others:   
“I don't know where he is, I was hoping you assholes would know.”  
“We can't finds him. we wouldn't be here if we had not already tried everything we could think of. We want to find him too. Help us. Please?” The same angel spoke, him voice gruffly matched his face, but the soft laugh lines, kind eyes and large smile threw off the tough-guy physique.  
“Why should we trust any of you?!” Sam finally spoke and everyone in the room turned toward him. “We don't even know any of your names?” speaking in an incredulous voice.  
“Sammy, I don't think they are that bad?”  
“That bad? Dean do you recall our last run in with angels?”  
“I’d rather find Cas right now, and worry about these assholes later,” He pulled his taller brother to his level, and spoke quietly, looking intense, “we can gank’em later if they pull something funny.” Sam gave Dean a strange look, probably a hybrid between his ridiculous puppy dog face and his “we need to talk about our feeling” chick flick face.  
“Fine” The younger said decisively after a moment of thought. And turning with his brother to face the group. With an unwavering voice, Dean looked the angels in the eyes one by one.  
“I think it’s time you all introduce yourselves.”


	5. I am so sorry

Hello everyone this is the author, Sadiembm, I am so sorry to say that for now I will be putting this story on temporary hiatus, as you know I havent posted a chapter in a LONG time, this is because I have had school and other responsibilities and am actually attempting to make the chapters to come both longer, and more detailed and plot oriented. This has required a lot of planning and rewriting of the chapters to come. I HATE planning my chapters but I am TRyING


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